


zugzwang

by markrenton



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Chess, Fluff and Angst, Hopeful Ending, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 13:38:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13272558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markrenton/pseuds/markrenton
Summary: Three-hundred and sixty-five days ago, Soonyoung buries his nose against the top of Wonwoo’s head, breathing him in for the very first time.(Soonyoung has declared himself master of minor bad decisions. A having-ice-cream-even-though-he’s-lactose-intolerant, kind of master. Doing things he knows are bad for him just because they feel so good. Momentary bliss beats the fearsome consequences.)





	zugzwang

**Author's Note:**

> prompt #018, a poem:  
> today is the day  
> when i will breathe in the scent of you  
> for one last time.  
> but i cannot bring myself  
> to exhale. 
> 
>  
> 
> okay. it's 5 am as i am posting this. my head is about to explode but i am going to write my an as best as i can because this is VERY important.
> 
> first and foremost, dani. oh dani, thank you so much. i am crying as i'm typing this because my heart is so heavy. i am so grateful for you and the help you've given me with this fic. i mean it when i say i couldn't have possibly done this without you and i will remember this for the rest of my life. this piece is so important to me and i am so happy you were a part of it. you're the most incredible beta, so attentive to my thoughts and ideas as well as my typos and grammar.... you've really been a light for me while writing this and i'm eternally grateful and i wish there was more i could do than just say thank you over and over again. if my brain was working a little better right now, i would be using about ten thousand adjectives to describe how wonderful you are. 
> 
> and to everyone else who listened, gave advice, motivated me and helped this get published. i am so proud of this fic and i am so excited to share it. this monster took so much out of me and i care for it more than anything i've ever written and i'm so happy i get to contribute to our family. all of swn- i love you. thank you.

Zugzwang, noun. _Chess._  

1\. A situation in which a player is limited to moves that cost pieces or have a damaging positional effect. 

2\. A situation where every possible move or decision is a bad one, or one that will result in damage or loss.

  
  
Life is a series of minor bad decisions and major bad decisions, and sometimes good decisions. The minor bad decisions are the ones you make nonstop: eating the last slice of pizza even though your stomach already hurts, going to bed too late and not waking up on time the next day, spending your last few bills on something nonessential, then having no change to tip the waiter. Major bad decisions are the ones you don’t like discussing. The good decisions are somewhat of a mystery. You can never tell when making a good decision unless it’s a given. Soonyoung has declared himself _master of minor bad decisions_. A having-ice-cream-even-though-he’s-lactose-intolerant, kind of master. Doing things he knows are bad for him just because they _feel so good_. Momentary bliss beats the fearsome consequences.

Sometimes, good decisions are the hardest ones to make.  
  
  
  
_344 days ago_

Soonyoung takes his spoon out of his ice cream to dig into Jeonghan’s own cup. He licks it and hums, his legs dangling off the ledge of the wooden pier.

“Yours is better,” Soonyoung claims, licking his lips for the remaining flavor. This close to the ocean, he can almost taste the salty seawater-- the crisp breeze brings the scent along with it at the same time it blows his hair over his face. When Soonyoung faces Jeonghan, the contempt on his face is sincere. Soonyoung laughs. If there is anything that always brightens his day it’s spending time with Jeonghan: it can be just them being beyond indolent and watching whatever is playing on TV, molding deep into the couch until their muscles degenerate.

“Of course mine is better. You always take the same corn flavor,” Jeonghan pulls his cup closer to his chest, protecting it from Soonyoung’s greedy spoon. “Pistachio beats corn in a fight,” he affirms confidently.

“Well, you always take Pistachio, too!” Soonyoung whines. Jeonghan shrugs at this, immune to his best friend’s loud energy. They’ve been friends long enough for him to know that when something is serious, Soonyoung is silent.

“It’s the best one,” Jeonghan attests, and Soonyoung’s laughter bubbles up again. “You’re laughing, but all I’ve ever said is true. I’ve never been wrong. Not once,” Jeonghan mumbles between ice cream pauses, offended.

“Surely there can’t be a best ice cream flavor. Surely humankind still hasn’t figured that one out,” Soonyoung assures, mid-chuckle.

“Surely you’re talking out of your lactose intolerant ass,” Jeonghan grins. Soonyoung nods, sighing dramatically.

“Well, you’re right about one thing. My lactose intolerant ass will be talking after this,” He groans. “Screaming, even.”

“Do you ever stop?” Jeonghan asks genuinely. Just when he thinks his best friend can no longer surprise him. Soonyoung offers him a cheeky smile in response. “Nah, you don’t. I don’t know why I asked,” Jeonghan says on a sigh.

Once they’re finished with their ice cream, Soonyoung grabs Jeonghan’s cup out of his hands, slipping it inside his own empty cup to throw them into the garbage bin in the ice cream shop. The tungsten lights emit a warm sensation, surrounding Soonyoung as he washes his hands in the old marble sink attached to the wall. It’s a quiet place. Jeonghan and Soonyoung have been coming here ever since they were kids, since Jeonghan always preferred to take the long way home through the pier.

When Soonyoung turns around to find a wet wipe for Jeonghan, the lady behind the glass vitrine, with short, auburn hair and deep brown eyes, smiles at him. She’s been working here ever since Soonyoung was only nine years old, and she always fusses when Jeonghan and him come for ice cream, complaining she never sees them these days. He nods respectfully at her and walks back to where his friend is sitting next to the water, dropping next to him and handing him the packet.

Jeonghan nods in gratitude and Soonyoung shakes his head, dismissing him. “So. What’s his name?”

Soonyoung furrows his eyebrows, wishing the sea breeze was powerful enough to lift him above and into the sky. Jeonghan knows him well. He can’t expect less than someone he’s known his whole life.

“Whose name?” he muses, keeping a clueless facade. Jeonghan crosses his legs one atop the other, squinting and running the wet nap over his hands in a certified technique. His eyes are like small knives cutting through Soonyoung’s skin leaving traces of small incisions. There is a mutual and unspoken understanding between them when Soonyoung pulls at the back of his head. He needs to shave his undercut before it starts looking ridiculous. “It’s too soon. He’s not a minor one. Yet.”

Jeonghan pouts his lips and nods in confusion. This has been their ritual ever since high school-- they get eat ice cream at the pier and sit at the ledge whenever Soonyoung fucks a _minor bad decision_. Jeonghan assumed they’re here because Soonyoung wants to discuss how small his dick was, or maybe how she didn’t even like _Notting Hill_.

“Alright. Then _why_ are we here?” Jeonghan questions, eyes narrowed as he adjusts the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. It’s Soonyoung’s turn to shrug, and he lets out a concerningly high hum.

Jeonghan furrows his eyebrows, suspicions growing. Soonyoung’s silence can only indicate one thing. “Oh, shit.” Jeonghan blinks, turning his entire body in Soonyoung’s direction, raising one of his knees to wrap an arm around it, speaking hesitantly. “Shit. Really?”

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything for a long minute, searching for the right words. “I think I like him. I actually like him. Is that normal? We haven’t even been anywhere besides a bed.”

Jeonghan threads his fingers through his hair as he snorts. He doesn’t know what to say. Soonyoung can’t blame him- he doesn’t either. Emotions aren’t their strongest suit.

“I mean, I guess... I guess,” Jeonghan pauses. “You asked him what’s his favorite ice cream?”

Soonyoung rubs his forehead, letting out a breath. He stares at the sunset in front of him, following the orange skyline all the way to where it fades into pink. He has always found the sunset particularly beautiful and he can’t resist a sense of nostalgia from the days he had forced Jeonghan to stay at the ledge just to melt into it a little bit longer.

“Rainbow Sherbet,” Soonyoung finally answers. The question would seem strange to anyone who isn’t them. Jeonghan shakes his head, sighing loudly. It takes him a couple more minutes to respond, but Soonyoung is content to keep staring at the painted sky.

“That’s ludicrous.”

“I know.”  
  
  
  
_365 days ago_

The club’s flashing lights make it unnecessary for anyone to get high when they come and go so fast it feels like a trip of its own. They flicker for a millisecond and disappear the next. Everything appears in slow motion: moving bodies, fingers touching, people dancing and rubbing up against each other to the music. It molds the damp air, makes it stuffy to shift through.

Soonyoung is dancing. That’s what he comes here to do. It’s a space he allows himself a bit of freedom, an escape. There aren’t any judges here, where bodies are entitled to simply be, transcend and mesh into something else entirely. Most people there are either drunk or high, while Soonyoung is neither. It isn’t difficult to pretend to be part of the fleeting crowd, dancing for himself. His eyes are shut while his limbs find a way to express something unspoken, the loud bass from the DJ’s speakers beating through his veins.

When he opens his eyes, there’s someone eyeballing him from across the bar. The guy stands uncomfortably squished between people shouting at the bartender for attention against the noise. Soonyoung’s intrigued and makes unabashed eye contact, lifting his arms above his head while his hips still move. The guy shyly turns his gaze to his feet.

Soonyoung pushes through the dance floor the entire way, towards the culprit, until they’re face to face. “Do you dance?” He yells so the guy can hear him through the music bouncing off the walls. He figures it sufficient to incite conversation.

A radiant smile forms across the guy’s face- his teeth are so straight and white they light up the dark club, substituting for the flashing lights. The guy eventually resounds, “Not unless I’m planning to take someone’s eye out.”

His droll response shapes a grin over Soonyoung’s face that he can’t scrub off, at the same time the music switches to a softer melody that isn’t any less deafening. He trails his eyes over the guy from his face down to his feet, sticking his tongue out of his mouth. He’s wearing a black shirt under an unbuttoned, pine green flannel that matches well with his light brown hair. His jeans are a dark, washed blue.

“You don’t belong here, do you?” Soonyoung’s question is only half rhetorical and the guy stares at him without saying anything for a moment (which gives Soonyoung the time to focus and appreciate how attractive he is), and eventually shakes his head no.

“Wanna get out of here?”

His name is Wonwoo. It’s forty-five minutes later that they’re in bed together, talking while stripping, kissing, dragging their hands over each other’s burning skin. Soonyoung pecks his lips and Wonwoo struggles to undo his jeans.

“Why were you at the club?” Soonyoung asks as he waits patiently for Wonwoo to outsmart the stubborn button on his jeans. He folds his arms beneath his head and Wonwoo rolls his eyes before finally getting the button undone. Wonwoo hums, triumphant.

“Uh, my friends dragged me there to get me laid,” Soonyoung laughs out, elevating his hips so Wonwoo can easily tug his jeans off, tossing them to an unknown corner of the floor.

“You could say they’ve succeeded,” Wonwoo snorts, feeling silly, and Soonyoung senses it and leans on his elbow to drag him down by his neck to kiss him full on the mouth, sloppy and wet.

Thirty-five minutes later, they’re both spent. Soonyoung buckles onto the mattress and gawks at the ceiling with Wonwoo’s head on his chest; he’s also attempting to regain his breathing. They spend around five minutes easing themselves. After their breaths are even and slow, Soonyoung tilts his neck to look at Wonwoo, eyelids fluttering for a moment or two. “How old are you?” He asks, earning a pause from Wonwoo.

“You’re full of questions,” Wonwoo points out and hoists his chest on top of Soonyoung, maneuvering his arms so he can lean on the back of his hands. Soonyoung, out of reflex, rests his hand on Wonwoo’s thigh that’s tangled around his own- for a brief moment both of them forget they’re practically strangers.

“I’m a curious person,” Soonyoung explains, though lacking conviction.

“Nice rhetoric,” Wonwoo mocks, leering at Soonyoung with narrowed eyes.

“What?” Soonyoung gulps. Wonwoo’s eyes are sharp, and when his eyes are squinted it’s impossible to feel anything but scrutiny. It doesn’t last long, though, because Wonwoo’s mouth curves into a grin, leaning his cheek on Soonyoung’s chest like it’s second nature.

“Alright. I’m twenty-three,” he surrenders, the desire to indulge Soonyoung overcoming him when Soonyoung is unconsciously pouting his lips. “Anything else?”

Soonyoung raises his eyebrows, surprised to hear Wonwoo relent. He dwells on whether he wants to ask something real or stupid. Wonwoo’s gaze becomes softer and Soonyoung relaxes a little.

“What do you do?” Wonwoo’s eyes widen and he ponders how to respond. A small smile tugs the corner of Soonyoung’s lips, his hands trailing to hold Wonwoo at the small of his back. He’s tempted to run his fingers over his spine, feel each vertebra where it sticks out.

“I play chess. Professionally.”

Soonyoung’s mouth falls open. “Get out!” he calls.

Wonwoo shrugs, confused by the sudden commotion. Of course he’s a chess player; if Soonyoung knew him better, it’d make perfect sense to him. A rustling wind is heard from the open window and Soonyoung curses himself for neglecting to close it when he left for the club. He’s far too snug now to get up and close it.

“What do you do, like, as a professional chess player? Go on competitions and win championships?” Soonyoung ventures in a guess. Wonwoo shifts and tumbles on the mattress next to Soonyoung, stretching his arms over his head to relieve tension from his bones and groans at the pleasure.

Soonyoung angles his neck to stare, blinking his eyes over the rectangular shape of Wonwoo’s body: he doesn’t have a single curve, nothing much to hold onto but skin and bone. Nevertheless, the long, slender anatomy has its own charm, enough appeal that Soonyoung wants to dip his face into every hollowed space and kiss.

“Pretty much. Sometimes I come as a judge to certain league competitions. Sometimes conventions where they pay me to play in front of people.” Wonwoo produces a yawn of great exhaustion and Soonyoung chuckles.

It’s only when Soonyoung finds a retort that he’s satisfied with that Wonwoo’s eyelids grow heavy and he shoves against Soonyoung’s body— he’s freezing, and Soonyoung just happens to be a living furnace, soft and inviting. Once comfortable and gaining body heat, he buries his face at the crook of Soonyoung’s neck.

At this proximity, it’s easy to feel Wonwoo’s silent breaths tickling his skin, smell his hair. It doesn’t smell like shampoo or anything Soonyoung can recognize. It smells like someone’s head; his natural scent, and he finds it addictive. He can’t help but turn and plant his face into the top of Wonwoo’s head, breathing him in-- it’s a far more intimate situation than he expects to have with a guy he just met. The bed is warm and cozy, Wonwoo’s rhythmic breathing lulls Soonyoung to sleep slowly but surely.

When he’s about to doze off, Soonyoung murmurs, “Wonwoo?” Wonwoo hums in response, nodding against the crook of Soonyoung’s neck. “What’s your favorite ice cream?”

There’s a pensive pause until Wonwoo stutters, “Rainbow sherbet.” The both of them fall asleep.  
  
  
  
_326 days ago_

Coming up on over five weeks, thirty-six days to be exact, Soonyoung and Wonwoo have been seeing each other most nights. It starts with sex and sleep and the occasional meal when they’re starving, and in time they start spending more time with each other than not. Soonyoung tells Wonwoo he’s a dance major, and that over the summer he instructs a dance course for neighbourhood kids at the community center. Wonwoo takes a crack at teaching Soonyoung to play chess-- Wonwoo defeats him every single time. At Soonyoung’s place they eat in bed, while Wonwoo’s apartment has a strict _food belongs in the kitchen policy_. Soonyoung doesn’t complain (or, more like he stops complaining after Wonwoo gives him head as he stands against the counter).

One night in particular, they order some Chinese. Soonyoung’s still in Wonwoo’s bed, scrolling through his phone when he hears his name called from the living room. He shuffles his boxers on and skips towards the kitchen.

The wooden cabinets are painted light blue, but the paint is cracking at the corners and edges- it’s clear they’ve seen better days. The counter is also wood, but it isn’t painted, a polished mahogany with a glossy texture.

Wonwoo stands in front of it (already much more decent than Soonyoung, wearing a shirt and pajama pants) and opens the bag to reveal noodle boxes. Soonyoung passes by him and hops on the counter, taking one of the boxes, and leans to grab a pair of chopsticks. He opens the box and digs in.

Wonwoo doesn’t pay Soonyoung much attention. They have already gotten used to each other’s presence. Soonyoung stuffs his mouth with noodles at the same time he idly lifts his chin to look at Wonwoo, studying him. It feels normal to sit on Wonwoo’s counter and eat his takeaway noodles-- he’s never had a one night stand (not that he can call Wonwoo a one night stand, not really) last this long. They have conversations. They watch movies. They have meals together.

Overtaken by his thoughts, Soonyoung slurps some more noodles and waits until he’s finished chewing before he speaks. “How would you define us?”

Wonwoo looks at Soonyoung, eyebrows knitting in thought while he moves his noodles around the sides of his takeaway box with his chopsticks. Soonyoung’s eyes are fixed at him as Wonwoo walks past him and leaps onto the counter beside him.

“Men? Korean? Human?” Wonwoo snickers.

Soonyoung huffs in return. “Step down from the existential form of the question.”

Wonwoo sets his noodles beside him, leaning over Soonyoung to find a napkin in the bag on his other side. He wipes the corners of his mouth, bending his arm to rub at the back of his neck. They exchange looks, a silent tension shaking the both of them. The question takes up a lot more space than Soonyoung wants it to. He worries his bottom lip incessantly and plays with his noodles, stirring them inside his box. He’s starting to regret having asked.

“I’ve never been a big definer,” Wonwoo eventually spits out, rubbing his hands on his thighs nervously. Soonyoung nods and tries to grasp at what dances on the tip of his tongue, but Wonwoo beats him to it. “Whatever suits you is fine with me.”

Soonyoung ultimately raises his head to peer at Wonwoo. Soonyoung grins, and Wonwoo grins back. When they press their mouths together Wonwoo’s lips taste like soy sauce, only sweeter.

“I’ve put you in a Zwischenzug,” Wonwoo whispers between chaste kisses. Soonyoung draws back in a giggle, eyes squeezed into two crescent moons. “It’s a chess term. It means an _’in-between move’_. When a player is expected to make a certain move, but plays another which the other opponent must answer, before making the expected move.” Wonwoo elaborates.

“Right, I’m dating a chess encyclopedia,” Soonyoung simpers, so skittish he can only focus his glance anywhere else save for Wonwoo’s face, eventually darting over to detect the repercussions of his words. Wonwoo’s smile is delicate but satisfied, the edges of his lips ensuing lines from his cheeks all the way to his nose-- Soonyoung’s cheeks gain color.

“My kids at the community center have their end of summer show next week if you wanna come,” Soonyoung splutters, off topic. Usually, the only person he invites to these shows is Jeonghan, but maybe it’s time to make an exception. Besides, Jeonghan will be there whether he invites him or not. But Soonyoung has never had a someone to invite, until now.

“I’ll be there,” Wonwoo says, picking up his box of noodles and digging in again, slurping with expertise. Soonyoung grins at him for a second before reaching for his own noodles.  
  
  
  
_270 days ago_

According to the second hand cuckoo clock Jeonghan jokingly bought for Soonyoung on his birthday two years ago, it’s fifteen minutes past seven in the evening. It’s particularly cold this December, with snow reported to begin next week, and Soonyoung has to move his snoring heater to stand in front of him while he lies on his tattered, second-hand grey couch.

He’s typing away at his essay on _Contemporary Dance and its effects on Gender Roles in Western Society_ \-- he’s been working on it for the past three excruciating hours, ever since he’d gotten back home after an intensive workshop that had his shins begging for mercy. He only needs to finish his closing statements before he can start proofreading, but his attention to detail feels close to zero.

Upon hearing the door unlock and close shut from across the living room, Soonyoung cranes his head to check who’s there. The apartment is dark save for the single dimmed lamp he has bent in the couch’s direction, but it’s not an effort for him to recognize Wonwoo’s figure appearing from the corridor, clearly exhausted and worn out from the chess competition he’s come back from. Soonyoung’s front teeth peek from behind his upper lip but Wonwoo’s too drained to notice. He watches as Wonwoo’s lanky, dangling arms drop his messenger bag onto the floor next to the couch, before dexterously lifting Soonyoung’s legs over his lap to sink into the cushion beside him, squeezing one of his ankles.

If Soonyoung’s arms were longer, he’d reach out to run his fingers through Wonwoo’s hair to smooth it back, even though he knows how much it annoys him.

Instead, he opts for clutching his laptop from the bottom to move it to the circular coffee table by his side before opening his arms in a welcoming notion. To his delight, Wonwoo cooperates and crawls above his resting body and topples over him, nesting his face beneath his chin. Soonyoung doesn’t linger and immediately nudges his nose against the top of Wonwoo’s head, taking in the familiar scent of his natural hair and sheltering him with steady arms.

Serenity falls over Soonyoung when the smell overflows his nostrils and clouds his better judgement. He needs to finish his essay before midnight, but lying here with Wonwoo seems like the best idea he’s ever had. Wonwoo’s cold nose nuzzles against his throat, his cat-like traits unmasking whenever he’s this spent.

“Did you have fun with the other nerds?” Soonyoung taunts.

Wonwoo lets out a mirthless laugh. “Do you get off on teasing me?”

 _Kinda_ , Soonyoung wants to say, but doesn’t want to risk it from the possibility that Wonwoo might get up and bring an end to the world’s most remarkable cuddle.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Soonyoung intones. “I’ll be good, I promise. Are you very tired?” He tries to sound as benevolent as he can but Wonwoo reads him like an open book. Now, when Wonwoo squints his eyes at him from where he rests on Soonyoung’s chest, Soonyoung offers him a mischievous smile he doesn’t know how to resist, and Wonwoo catches it after a few moments and slides a hand under Soonyoung’s back, making him raise his eyebrows expectantly- but Wonwoo grabs a pillow, hovering over him and swinging it in his face before Soonyoung has the time to assess the situation.

“Hey- hey, mercy! Mercy!” he begs, shielding himself with his arms as Wonwoo continues to assault him with the soft pillow and laugh hysterically. When Wonwoo finally calms down and stops, he drops back against Soonyoung’s body, who doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Wonwoo and squeeze him close.

“I gotta finish this essay,” Soonyoung says after a few minutes of basking in Wonwoo’s warmth, nuzzling his nose against his head, lifting one of his arms to thread his fingers through Wonwoo’s hair; it’s too soft to wrap against his fingers. Wonwoo picks up his head to look at Soonyoung, lounging on top of him with his chin jabbing against Soonyoung’s chest (he has learned how to ignore the pain).

Of course, it’s not exactly how he wants to spend the rest of his evening with Wonwoo, and he’s sure Wonwoo isn’t very keen about it, and just when Soonyoung is about to apologize, Wonwoo nods and says, “Need me to help?”

The sudden question thrown into the air makes Soonyoung’s eyebrows rise, the sweetness in Wonwoo’s voice almost enough for Soonyoung to cry. Wonwoo blinks, awaiting an answer. Soonyoung shakes out of his trance and nods slowly, smiling brightly at his boyfriend who chuckles at him, perplexed. “What?” Wonwoo’s cheeks tint slightly as Soonyoung continues to stare at him.

“I like you.” The words blurt out of Soonyoung, the first thing that comes to his mind. Wonwoo’s lips purse upwards in a smug expression, humming.

“I like you too.”  
  
  
  
_252 days ago_

It’s days like these that Soonyoung is extremely grateful to have Jeonghan as his best friend, who’s dragged him along to the supermarket after dropping a bomb on him when he asked _when was the last time you shopped for actual groceries?_ And Soonyoung doesn’t have a choice other than let Jeonghan tug him by the ear to the closest shopping center.

Their first stop is the supermarket where Jeonghan walks around the long, fluorescently-lit aisles and chooses different fruits, vegetables and other healthy foods Soonyoung isn’t sure he’s ever heard of. Jeonghan keeps reassuring him as Soonyoung follows behind him with the cart, every once in awhile turning around to set a bag of something green and leafy inside it.

The supermarket isn’t very crowded since it’s the middle of the day on a Tuesday. Soonyoung first thinks he could complain that he’s cold, but the supermarket has their heating turned on, so he decides it’s probably better to keep quiet and reserve any grievances for later.

When they reach the dairy aisle, Soonyoung begs Jeonghan for ice cream, and he allows him one pint to take home with the promise that he’ll take a pill before eating it. Soonyoung gives a victory dance that makes a nearby mom who’s also picking up ice cream frown at the pair, turning her head to the other side when they notice her. Jeonghan sighs (Soonyoung knows he’s only pretending to be embarrassed).

Once finished with getting groceries for Soonyoung, Jeonghan doesn’t bother asking before he walks into the nearest department store, expecting Soonyoung to follow (he does). Jeonghan finds the designated perfume area, with large, white counters containing a variety of perfumes and colognes. A lady with a full face of heavy, unflattering and mismatched makeup monitors them as Jeonghan starts spraying different testers in the air and sniffing. Soonyoung furrows his eyebrows while he watches, snorting.

“What are you doing? You always say you prefer fabric softener to anything,” Soonyoung says before joining him, nonchalantly spraying testers around so he wouldn’t feel left out. Jeonghan shrugs, avoiding his friend’s eyes and focusing on the counter of men’s cologne, examining the bottles carefully.

“I feel like it,” Jeonghan offers without much explanation. Soonyoung narrows his eyes and tilts his head at him, his tongue sticking from between his teeth for a moment.

“You’re not telling me something,” he claims, eyes narrowed and blinking with suspicion. Jeonghan turns his face to stare at his best friend alarmingly for a second before he continues to inspect the colored containers.

In a moment of sudden realization, Soonyoung opens his mouth wide and says, far too loudly, “There’s a man! There’s a-”

He doesn’t get to complete his yelp because Jeonghan is quick to press his hand over his mouth, the alarming expression from before returning in full effect, enough for Soonyoung to feel a shiver down his spine. “Would you keep your voice down?” Jeonghan hisses, and slowly lets go of Soonyoung, who is still grinning from ear to ear, barely restraining himself from jumping around. The lady from earlier is behind the counter now, but he probably shouldn’t give her a reason to come back.

This time, Soonyoung leans in close and whispers against Jeonghan’s ear while he reads the scent’s description on one of the many bottles. “There is a man, though, isn’t there? You have someone and you haven’t told me a single--”

“He isn’t a man, he’s a boy!” Jeonghan stammers, and Soonyoung’s eyes look like they’re just about to pop out, and he gasps. Jeonghan takes a deep breath, attempting to regain his composure which he lost thanks to, the one and only, Kwon Soonyoung.

“He’s a sophomore at the university. I met him at the Radio Tech course I’m a TA for,” Jeonghan mumbles hesitantly, biting the inside of his cheeks which are tinting by the second as he unconsciously begins playing with his hair. Soonyoung stays where he is, mesmerized by the new information, shaking his head.

“I can’t believe you haven’t said anything,” Soonyoung frowns, crossing his arms against his chest. Jeonghan rolls his eyes and eyes the counter to see if they’ve attracted the seller’s attention. They’re safe, for now.

“Well, it’s not like I’ve had the chance, have I? You’ve been quite busy,” Jeonghan says, deflecting Soonyoung’s words.

Soonyoung’s gaze drops to the floor, and he has another moment of deep realization: he’s been neglecting Jeonghan on Wonwoo’s behalf. Half a dozen nights he had the opportunity to catch up with Jeonghan, but he opted for a night in with Wonwoo, or a movie date with Wonwoo, or going to the club with Wonwoo. A pang of guilt hits his heart the same way a light bulb flickers, and he sighs out, rubbing his forehead.

“I’ve been a bad husband,” he starts, and Jeonghan groans, but it doesn’t prevent Soonyoung from standing behind him to wrap his arms around Jeonghan’s waist in a tight back-hug, shamefully hiding his face against his shoulder. “Please forgive me.”

Jeonghan lifts his arm and cranes it to pat Soonyoung’s head reassuringly, giving him a chuckle. “It’s fine. My husband deserves to spend time with his boyfriend,” Jeonghan says, letting out a soft sigh. “He’s coming over to _warm glass of milk_ tonight.” There’s a tinge of fear in Jeonghan’s voice, one that Soonyoung isn’t familiar with. He slowly lets go of his best friend’s waist and moves to stand in front of him instead.

“You don’t need cologne,” Soonyoung insists, placing both his hands on Jeonghan’s shoulders and squeezing, shaking his head to the negative. His front teeth are peeking from behind his upper lip. “He has _you_. It’s more than enough.” He nods at his own claim, hoping he’ll manage to calm Jeonghan’s nerves. It seems to work when Jeonghan nods back and wraps an arm around Soonyoung’s waist, who in return wraps his own around Jeonghan’s shoulders as he starts leading them out of the department store.

“So what’s his name?” Soonyoung asks with a teasing tone that has Jeonghan chuckling.

“Hansol. He’s a linguistics major. Part-time sound engineering hobbyist,” Jeonghan replies with a hum, earning a marveled sound from Soonyoung.

“And don’t worry, I’ll have a lot more time these days. It’s almost winter break, and Wonwoo has some important competitions coming up, so he’s swamped,” Soonyoung notes.

“How’re you and your wonder boy doing, anyway?” Jeonghan inquires, raising an eyebrow.

“Good. We’re good.” Soonyoung grins wide as the two leave the shopping center towards the snowy white street outside, Jeonghan leaning in to push the fluffy hat covering Soonyoung’s head a bit forward for more protection.  
  
  
  
_249 days ago_

The air inside their bedroom is stuffy, windows and door carefully closed and locked to keep the cold away and their moans inside. Wonwoo’s legs are hooked around Soonyoung’s waist, one of his shivering hands gripping at the sheets and the other trailing over Soonyoung’s arm until it’s wrapped tight around his shoulder, and he attempts to match Soonyoung’s persistent thrusts as Soonyoung fucks him.

Soonyoung’s sweaty forehead falls against the curve between Wonwoo’s shoulder and neck and Soonyoung pants rapidly- his hips gain speed and strength as Wonwoo murmurs his name under his breath softly, like a begging chant for Soonyoung to _never stop, keep going, please, oh God, please, Soonyoung-_ Soonyoung swallows it right up like the sweetest confection.

Even with shaky and scarcely coherent whispers, Wonwoo’s voice stirs something deep inside Soonyoung chest and he forgets about control and self-restraint.

At a sudden twist of Soonyoung’s hips, Wonwoo’s nails dig into his red-hot skin (everywhere- back, chest, up to the tips of his ears) like he’s clinging onto dear life, moans pouring out of his lips and increasing in volume until Soonyoung can’t hear anything else. His mouth moves and words spill out, but he can’t focus long enough to know what he’s saying, not when his cock is deep inside Wonwoo and his other hand is jerking him off in a steady rhythm.

In an abrupt movement, Soonyoung drags Wonwoo lower onto the bed to press their chests flush together skin to skin, making Wonwoo gasp in a mix of surprise and pleasure- this way Soonyoung can feel Wonwoo’s heartbeat building and his whole body losing touch with reality around them, Soonyoung’s lips ghosting kisses over Wonwoo’s neck.

There’s a single staggered, choked sound Wonwoo makes from the very back of his throat that lets Soonyoung know he’s about to come, and Soonyoung changes his fast pace to a series of deep, rough and calculated thrusts against a certain spot. He thumbs at the slit of his dick, working his wrist diligently. Wonwoo trembles against him, back arching against the mattress, his toes curling when his arousal reaches his peak and he comes, pliant when he collapses- Soonyoung goes back to fucking into him relentlessly until he reaches his own climax and groans low, toppling on top of Wonwoo.

After five minutes of heaving breaths, the both of them recover and Soonyoung crosses his arms over Wonwoo’s chest. He smiles, and Wonwoo huffs a dumbfounded laughter and threads his fingers through Soonyoung’s damp hair and pushes it back in one swift motion. “Merry Christmas,” Soonyoung says, beaming.

Wonwoo laughs again and flips them over, their mouths meeting in a frenzy.  
  
  
  
_228 days ago_

Still snowing, it’s a cold noon in January, and Soonyoung forgot to refill his Lactaid prescription (for someone who’s lactose intolerant, he eats a lot more dairy than the doctor suggests). So, reluctantly, Wonwoo and him put on winter boots and heavy coats to leave the house and stop by the pharmacy near Wonwoo’s apartment.

Soonyoung stands at the front door while Wonwoo carefully jams Soonyoung’s short, chubby fingers into his gloves, and Soonyoung stays still through it all, grinning at his feet as Wonwoo goes on to fix Soonyoung’s scarf, finally straightening his coat collar.

It’s freezing outside, but the sun is shining, making the snow sparkle, covering benches and city bikes; it’s one of Soonyoung’s favorite contrasts. He still feels the cool wind hitting his nose even with the massive scarf tightly wrapped around his neck. Every step he takes, his boots create an imprint into the snow beneath his feet. Wonwoo waddles next to him, his glasses fogging up with every breath he takes.

The pharmacy is much warmer than the street, with a clean strong scent of something fresh, like the lemon scented wipes they give you at restaurants. Wonwoo takes Soonyoung’s prescription out of his coat pocket, along with Soonyoung’s ID from Soonyoung’s own pocket, and points him to the short, aged pharmacist behind the counter. Soonyoung flashes the man a smile and lifts his thumbs to indicate it’s him, which makes the man laugh. Wonwoo continues to speak to the pharmacist and ask questions about the tablets while Soonyoung wanders around, inspecting the various energy bars on display.

After a moment, Wonwoo walks over to him and nonchalantly says, “Give me your wallet.” Soonyoung plainly pushes a hand down his jeans pocket and fishes it out and hands it over, still reading the ingredients mentioned on the back of one of the energy bars- chocolate and coconut. Wonwoo grabs the wallet from Soonyoung hand and returns to the counter, calling out to him on his way. “If you want any of those, say so before I’m paying.”

Soonyoung dismisses him with a wave of his hand at first, still going over the bar’s description before he picks his head up look at Wonwoo, who’s smiling and thanking the pharmacist, reaching for the small bag holding Soonyoung’s pills.

With a grin still plastered across his face, Wonwoo waddles his way towards Soonyoung, lifting the bag to meet his boyfriend’s eyes, offering a single satisfied nod. “You can eat lasagna tonight,” Wonwoo congratulates, and Soonyoung gawks at him for a couple of seconds.

“Wonwoo,” he whispers, then stops. Wonwoo blinks in anticipation, tilting his head to the side.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” The words roll off Soonyoung’s tongue naturally, and he needs a few minutes of silence to register them. The pharmacist doesn’t seem to be paying them any mind, but Soonyoung’s mind is buzzing with overwhelming thoughts- but one is clear: he’s honest, and he doesn’t regret what he said.

But Wonwoo doesn’t even look at him before he nods and takes Soonyoung’s pills out of the bag. Reading its instructions, he casually murmurs his response.

“Love you too.”

It takes about a minute for Wonwoo to realize what he’s just said, and in slow-motion the hand holding the instructions drops to his side. Soonyoung stares at him wide-eyed and opened-mouth, a nervous giggle escaping him. Wonwoo catches his giggle and laughs sheepishly, rubbing his temple.

“Can we try that again?”  
  
  
  
_217 days ago_

With the temperature rising and the snow thawing off sidewalks and cars and the sun shining a little brighter every day, it gets slightly more bearable to leave the house. It’s still cold outside- just over zero degrees celsius- but carrying a huge coat everywhere isn’t necessary anymore. Wonwoo and Soonyoung are in the middle of an unfortunate game of chess (a rather one-sided match) when Jeonghan gives Soonyoung a ring and asks if he and Wonwoo are particularly busy.

“Not at all. Are you up to no good?” Wonwoo laughs at Soonyoung’s response then motions at the chess set for Soonyoung to play his move. Soonyoung sticks his tongue out at him and shakes his head, leaning back against the couch and crossing a leg over the other. Wonwoo frowns.

“You bet. Hansol and I are in the neighborhood and want to have lunch somewhere. You two wanna join?” Wonwoo raises his eyebrows when Soonyoung elicits a sound of surprise, flailing his arm for him to tell him what Jeonghan is saying over the phone. Soonyoung presses his phone against his shoulder and asks Wonwoo with a smile, “You hungry?”

They meet at a small cafe not very far from Soonyoung’s apartment. The Christmas decor is still up, with fairy lights from wall to wall, flickering red, green and white and a small plastic tree at the corner next to the barista’s station. Soonyoung enters first, Jeonghan behind him, followed by Hansol and Wonwoo last. The barista, a tall, exceptionally handsome and dark-haired guy picks his head when he catches a glimpse of Soonyoung, greeting him warmly as he steps towards the bar.

“Soonyoung-hyung!” he calls, loud and excited. “You brought friends.” The barista’s glance trails over to the rest of the group as they follow Soonyoung. Jeonghan and Hansol stop to stare at the window showcasing powdered-sugar covered pastries and glossy, colorful cakes in varying sizes and flavors. Soonyoung hears Hansol telling Jeonghan one of the sweets looks awesome, accompanied by Jeonghan giggling.

“I couldn’t keep coming here all on my own, could I, Mingyu?” Soonyoung replies, flashing him a sweet smile that makes Mingyu’s sharp canines show and his cheeks color.

“I guess not. The usual?” Mingyu asks with a small stammer, swiftly turning around to face the machine behind him, grabbing one of the portafilters and grinding a decent amount of coffee beans into it.

Soonyoung hums and nods slowly, leaning with his palms on the bar. “Make it extra strong for me,” He adds quietly, and Mingyu raises his eyebrows and turns his back to work on Soonyoung’s order.

When Soonyoung spins on his heel and leans with his back against the station, he sees Wonwoo standing in front of him with narrowed eyes. He blinks, tilting his head to the side. “What?” he asks, stifling a laugh. Wonwoo grasps each edge of the bar between Soonyoung, locking him in place and huffing.

“Is the flirting necessary?” The tone of his voice is indifferent, but Soonyoung’s has spent long enough studying his body language to detect a hint of jealousy under Wonwoo’s well-delivered facade.

Soonyoung leans in and presses a kiss to Wonwoo’s mouth. Wonwoo accepts and kisses back, grinning against Soonyoung’s lips just in time for Jeonghan to whistle at them, loud enough for them to break apart, Wonwoo’s face hiding at Soonyoung’s collar.

They sit down at a corner table next to a heater, Soonyoung and Wonwoo on one side and Hansol and Jeonghan on the other. Jeonghan and Vernon share a monster BLT sandwich that Soonyoung recommended wholeheartedly, and Soonyoung and Wonwoo share a grilled emmental cheese, mushrooms and spinach toast.

“Jeonghan’s told me you’re a linguistics major,” Soonyoung says while cutting a piece of toast for Jeonghan, who asked for a bite, and hands it to him. Hansol nods, glimpsing at Jeonghan for a moment before he speaks.

“Yeah, I am. I really like language, and words. Words hold a lot of power,” Hansol says, rubbing his knees beneath the table. Soonyoung knows he shouldn’t put on too much of the protective-friend vibe, but he’s not sure he’s got that under control.

Soonyoung purses his lips with a single nod, taking a sip of his coffee. He doesn’t say anything, which he thinks is a smart tactic until Wonwoo leans forward towards Hansol and whispers not so quietly, “Don’t worry. He likes you. He just can’t have you knowing that yet,” to which Soonyoung gasps and swats at Wonwoo’s shoulder. Jeonghan bursts laughing, hand reaching to grab Hansol’s bicep.

“It’s true!” He cackles. Soonyoung isn’t satisfied with the direction the conversation is heading. “Props, Wonwoo. I think you might know him just as well as I do.” The smugness on Wonwoo’s features is unbeatable. Jeonghan turns to face Hansol and stretches to kiss his cheek. “You’re doing fine.”

They spend up to an hour in the cafe. Soonyoung finds himself relaxing, dropping his act. It’s a good day to be with friends, and he doesn’t want to waste it interrogating Hansol. They talk and laugh, catching up on the latest in their lives.

“Wonwoo-yah, how about those big competitions coming up? Any news?” Jeonghan asks conversationally while spreading some butter on the complimentary bread they’d received for the table. Wonwoo scratches the side of his neck.

“Nothing’s set in stone, so I can’t say,” Wonwoo answers with a sheepish chuckle.

“Don’t even try,” Soonyoung chimes in, leaning back against his seat. “It’s impossible to get anything out of him.” He scowls jokingly, extending his arm to flatten the hair on the back of Wonwoo’s head. Wonwoo shifts to smile at Soonyoung with the corner of his mouth, and he sends him back the same grin.

Soonyoung knows Wonwoo doesn’t like getting excited about anything unless it’s absolutely confirmed. Soonyoung had attempted to get Wonwoo to share more information, but he’d never budge. Eventually, he stopped pestering him.

With their stomachs full, they finish up and pay. Waving goodbye to Mingyu, the four leave the cafe, with Jeonghan and Soonyoung walking in front with their arms interlocked and Wonwoo and Hansol following behind. Wonwoo explains the rules of chess to a very curious Hansol, who’s all nods and hums.

“He can stay,” Soonyoung says after a few minutes of him and Jeonghan walking silently, the cold wind blowing their hair back, Soonyoung’s eyes getting a little watery. Jeonghan raises his eyebrows at his friend, then averts his gaze down to the concrete ground beneath their feet. The smile on his face is soft. “You look happy,” Soonyoung says without looking at Jeonghan, only tightening his arm where it’s curled around his.

“You too,” Jeonghan says and stops in front of Soonyoung’s apartment building, lifting his head to see how far behind Wonwoo and Hansol are. Quite enough. “I mean it. He’s doing you good,” he adds, his smile as delicate as his fingers when they brush the hair covering Soonyoung’s forehead, parting the locks.

“Be well,” Jeonghan whispers just before their respective partners catch up with them.

“I promise.”

Going up the stairs to Soonyoung’s apartment, Soonyoung stops Wonwoo in one of the corners and grabs both his cheeks to kiss him deeply.

“What was that for?” Wonwoo murmurs under his breath, hand cupping the side of Soonyoung’s neck. Soonyoung grins widely until his eyes turn into small crescents, shaping his face into something ecstatic.

“To remember.”

Exactly how this feels like.  
  
  
  
_172 days ago_

February flashes by as quick as a heartbeat. Soonyoung goes back to school, and with his course at the community center becoming a full-time job, he doesn’t have time for anything else. The same goes for Wonwoo, who has been dedicating his time to endless practice, competitions and convention appearances every other weekend. The busier they become, the more they spend their time together doing nothing. Most days they only see each other late at night, whether it’s Soonyoung coming back from a late class or Wonwoo after a full day of practice and a match in the nearby province.

Soonyoung walks into Wonwoo’s apartment after a rewarding class. He has finally perfected a difficult choreography he’s been struggling with for weeks, and all the way back home he’s been thrilled to tell Wonwoo about it. The place is dark, and he puts his keys in the bowl that rests on the dresser next to the door, stepping toward the living room and dropping his bag on the couch. He looks around the kitchen, bedroom and bathroom, all empty with no sign of Wonwoo, until he peeks his head at the small balcony and sees him sitting at the table.

“For a second I thought you weren’t here,” Soonyoung sniggers after sliding the door open and closing it behind him, leaning against the glass. There’s a pack of cigarettes on the round amd low glass table in front of Wonwoo, who sits still and stares. Soonyoung can’t see his face, but he can see the smoke disappearing past his mouth and into the chilly night sky.

“Since when do you smoke?” Soonyoung asks with a laugh and pulls the chair next to Wonwoo to sit beside him. Wonwoo doesn’t say anything, just taps his cigarette into the ashtray and ducks his head to look at his lap. Soonyoung furrows his eyebrows when Wonwoo ignores his question. There’s an abrupt change in the air that makes the hairs on Soonyoung’s arms stand up.

Half a minute passes until Wonwoo replies, deadpan. “I don’t smoke.” His gaze returns to the sky. He presses the cigarette bud against the ashtray with trembling fingers, and Soonyoung’s throat starts itching.

“Hey,” Soonyoung says, shuffling closer with his chair. He lifts his legs and sits with his foot under his thigh, his other leg rubbing against the floor. His throat is dry. Wonwoo’s lack of response is activating his nerves.

Eventually, Wonwoo moves his head to look at Soonyoung, his jaw clenched. His eyes brimmed with tears and when he shuts them for a second they fall.

Soonyoung feels his stomach twisting in knots, and he launches himself from where he’s sitting into Wonwoo’s lap, embracing him- his arms strain from how tight he holds him and Wonwoo’s buckles, arms rising to hold tight onto the back of Soonyoung’s shirt at the same time his face sinks into the crook of Soonyoung’s neck, where he can feel Wonwoo’s tears fall against his skin.

Soonyoung’s lips wobble when he speaks again, stammering. “What- what’s wrong? Please tell me.” Soonyoung kisses the top of Wonwoo’s head repeatedly and breathes him in, hoping it would help calm _himself_ down.

A couple more concerning minutes pass, and Wonwoo keeps sobbing quietly, and Soonyoung keeps hugging him, trying to comfort him. When Wonwoo finally extracts himself from Soonyoung’s arms, Soonyoung loosens his embrace and trails his hand from his back to his cheek, brushing it with his thumb and wiping at the tears still staining his reddened face.

“What happened?” Soonyoung whispers, his voice coming out croaky. It’s only then he realizes he’s been crying too. Wonwoo takes a deep shivering breath, pulling at his runny nose.

“I won the match today. First place.” He sniffles.

Soonyoung is hit with a wave of relief washing through his whole body, replying with an uproarious laugh. “And you’re crying like this? You nearly gave me a heart attack, you punk,” Soonyoung murmurs tentatively, pushing Wonwoo’s hair back and threading his fingers through it.

Wonwoo doesn’t answer, so Soonyoung simply hugs him again, peppering kisses on his cheek. Wonwoo is pliable in his arms. Wonwoo’s tears over something good throw Soonyoung for a loop, but because he’s still quite ignorant when it comes to which competitions are important, he allows it when Wonwoo dives his face against the curve of his neck yet again.

He hopes it’s a good decision, not asking.  
  
  
  
_149 days ago_

The sun is shining brighter every day with spring just at the door. Soonyoung loves spring, especially when the nights get just warm enough to visit the beach during the evenings. There is something magical about the sea breeze at dusk when it isn’t too hot or too cold. It also means that his birthday is coming up in just two months.

Jeonghan’s apartment overlooks the beach. The sand and the ocean look far and small from the wide-window view. Soonyoung can almost taste the saltiness in the air, feel the wind against his features, smell that seaside scent he loves so much.

His daydreams fade away when Jeonghan’s voice becomes louder when he comes out of the kitchen with two margaritas. Soonyoung turns his head to face him, raising his eyebrows at the sight of their drinks. Jeonghan offers him one before situating himself on the couch next to Soonyoung, taking a sip of his drink. He hums, complacent.

Soonyoung laughs. “When and where did you learn to make _these_?” He asks, inspecting the salt-dipped glass rim. Soonyoung takes a small sip and practically vibrates.

“You know I never reveal my secrets. Good, isn’t it?” Jeonghan beams, and Soonyoung nods slowly in appreciation, pouting his lips and Jeonghan sets his glass atop a coaster on the oak coffee table in front of them.

“Yeah. Very good. Since when do we drink cocktails on a Tuesday evening instead of downing shots at two in the morning?” Soonyoung asks rhetorically, furrowing his eyebrows with a chuckle, watching Jeonghan as he raises a leg and wraps an arm around it and laughing back at his best friend.

“Since we’ve become responsible and sophisticated adults?” Jeonghan says, and Soonyoung stares at him for a minute until the both of them burst into laughter, clinking their glasses and saying cheers.

 

 

\--------------------------------

The margarita has Soonyoung feeling warm, nicely buzzed and content. It’s been awhile since Jeonghan and him have had the time to sit down and talk. He’s missed this. Jeonghan is in the middle of an amusing story about the time Hansol had thought he lost his keys and was looking all over Jeonghan’s apartment for them, only to find out he was holding them the entire time. They both lose their breath laughing.

“He was so embarrassed. I’ve never seen him leave here so fast,” Jeonghan murmurs mid half-laugh-half-wheeze, clutching at his hurting sides. Once Soonyoung calms down, regaining his breath, he splays onto the couch, one arm under the back of his head.

“You like him a lot,” Soonyoung taunts, biting his tongue at the edge of his lips. He stretches his leg to nudge his toes against Jeonghan’s waist, who shrugs and nods, his cheeks already red from the alcohol, but the color grows deeper.

“Yeah,” Jeonghan says quietly, his nose scrunching with a laugh. He then adds, “He just started a huge project for his… phonology class. I’m still unsure what exactly he’s writing, but he’s so excited about it.” Jeonghan stops to smile, his eyes trailing to the window across from them. “He went on for an hour and a half just talking about what he’s going to write for the intro. I forgot what it feels like to be a sophomore.”

Soonyoung listens intently, the fond expression on Jeonghan’s face warming his heart. It makes him happy, knowing Jeonghan has someone he cares about that cares about him back, just as much. He’s always been there to take care of Soonyoung, with all his bad decisions and mistakes.

But something about hearing that Hansol shares his work in great detail with his partner stings. He can’t remember the last time Wonwoo made a passing remark about the rules of chess, or one of his competition rivals. They used to sit in front of the malfunctioning heater in Soonyoung’s apartment and Wonwoo would teach him every single move, explain the terminology of the game.

He doesn’t anymore.

Soonyoung sits up abruptly, holding his ankles tightly. Jeonghan notices his sudden change of position, and sits up as well, scooting a little closer on the couch. “You okay?” Jeonghan asks softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Is it the alcohol?”

Soonyoung shakes his head, staring at his lap. His thoughts are a mess in his mind, running all over the place with one question after the other, and another, and a dozen more.

Maybe he’s just overthinking. Maybe it’s just because Wonwoo’s under a lot of pressure right now, and talking about it more isn’t what helps him. He’s always been one who prefers to be left alone with his hidden inner-turmoil, and Soonyoung doesn’t mind, because he knows that it’s Wonwoo’s way of processing stress.

Eventually, Soonyoung lifts his head to look at Jeonghan. Jeonghan’s face reads concern, and Soonyoung feels awful, so he just sighs, forcing the most natural smile he can muster. “It’s okay, I’m fine,” he whispers, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Soonyoung,” Jeonghan mutters, worrying his bottom lip. “You’re far too quiet to be okay.”

There isn’t much Soonyoung can say now to deflect Jeonghan’s statement, because he’s right. Jeonghan knows he’s right, and Soonyoung knows he’s right. The hand on his shoulder squeezes, encouraging and comforting.

“I think something is wrong,” He utters, gingerly. “But I have no idea what it is.”  
  
  
  
_124 days ago_

Thousand different voices and footsteps are heard in the train station as Wonwoo and Soonyoung make way towards Wonwoo’s designated train to Busan. The lights are white and bright, unnecessary with the sunlight coming in from the glass ceiling. Soonyoung hasn’t been to the train station in a while-- usually, whenever Wonwoo leaves for a convention, it’s two days at the maximum, but this one is a week long, with competitions, panels and lectures. At least that’s what Soonyoung managed to get out of Wonwoo as they made their way toward the train station. It’s the first time he’s actually accompanying him up to the the very end, the train door.

They haven’t been this long apart since they’ve met. Soonyoung knows it isn’t going to be too bad, he has Jeonghan and Hansol to keep him company, but it’s still strange to be saying goodbye for a week. He doesn’t like goodbyes. Never did.

“Don’t forget to do your laundry, and have proper meals. And I mean real meals, and if you’re helpless, call Jeonghan,” Wonwoo says as he fumbles with his luggage, gripping his bag strap over his shoulder tightly. Soonyoung can’t help but notice Wonwoo’s eyes are looking everywhere possible except Soonyoung’s eyes, and he assumes he’s nervous. There must be a lot riding on this week, in regards to Wonwoo’s career.

Soonyoung reaches to grab Wonwoo’s cheeks in his hands, turning his face to him. He smiles with his front teeth peeking from his front teeth and nods. “You worry too much.” Soonyoung reassures him. “I’ve handled twenty one years of my life without you.”

“Barely,” Wonwoo murmurs, meeting Soonyoung’s eyes for a brief moment before staring down at the ground, just before the call for the train blares. “Gotta go.” He picks up his duffel bag from where it rests on the floor next to his feet, and leans in to press the gentle and chaste kiss to Soonyoung’s cheek.

As he watches him walk away and into the train car, Soonyoung buries his hands in his pockets. Heaviness sets in his heart while he bides, and the car doors close, Wonwoo’s figure is gone with a blink of an eye.  
  
  
  
_117 days ago_

Returning from the corner store after buying some basic groceries, Soonyoung shuts the door of his apartment behind him and locks it, walking to the kitchen to put everything in its place. Tonight’s his last night alone; Wonwoo is to come back tomorrow morning with the earliest train. He doesn’t have class tomorrow and he isn’t teaching either, so he’s already been coming up with a dozen ideas for the day they could spend together.

Soonyoung places the fabric bags on the counter and opens the fridge, taking out eggs and small water bottles- a habit he picked up from times Wonwoo would have to leave for a match early in the morning, so he would have a stack of water bottles with him on the train.

When he looks up, he sees Wonwoo sitting on the couch across the room, watching him, and almost drops the egg carton, making a quick rescue with his left hand before it would have met the floor.

“You’re back. Fuck, at least let me know you’re here,” Soonyoung laughs, still in a bit of a shock. Wonwoo doesn’t say anything; his eyes simply stay glued to Soonyoung.

“Weren’t you staying in Busan for the night? You said you’ll catch the early morning train. You missed me too much?” He tries to sound teasing, he tries to sound anything but scared, because Wonwoo keeps staring at him from across the living room, his hands kneading his knees.

“You’re starting to creep me out a little,” He says, and Wonwoo’s gaze drops down to the floor before he rubs his forehead. He peeks up just a moment, and with a soft voice he whispers,

“Take a chair. Sit.” Soonyoung furrows his eyebrows but walks past the counter and out of the kitchen into the living room, pulling a chair from the dining table to sit in front of Wonwoo, tilting his head to the side.

There are another five or more minutes of absolute silence between them. The windows are closed and the air becomes stuffy and hot very quickly. Maybe May is a lot hotter this year than usual, or maybe it’s just the air around them that makes Soonyoung feel like he’s going to choke.

Wonwoo’s expression is suffocated too. A sullen ambience falls over the room.

“I need you to listen to me, without saying anything,” Wonwoo says after a while, his voice shaking just enough for Soonyoung’s heart to start beating faster. Soonyoung nods, and Wonwoo finally glances up at him again, taking a deep breath.

“I’ve been qualified for the next Chess Olympiad,” Wonwoo says, hesitating. Soonyoung breaks into a large grin, about to congratulate him: this is a massive feat, something Wonwoo has worked so hard to achieve, before he remembers Wonwoo asked him not to speak. So he just nods, teeth showing wide- but when their eyes lock, there’s no joy or excitement behind Wonwoo’s. Soonyoung’s smile fades away.

There are a million and one thoughts flooding his head at once, each worse than the other.

Wonwoo brushes his hand over his chin and mouth, like he can’t bear to say his next words; but gathers his courage with a thick swallow down his throat.

“I need to move to Moscow. For a year.”

It’s only a sentence, but Soonyoung forgets how to breathe. Everything seems so far away, like a moving picture, like a dream-- where you’re running and running, but your feet are stuck, barely moving off the ground. Sounds drift further and further away until he forces himself back to reality.

Soonyoung’s head feels like it’s splitting open, right in the middle, from ear to ear. He tries to register the words, to understand them, but all he can feel is pain. His ears bleed a torment of white noise and pain. Pain, pain… pain.

But pain doesn’t seem like the right word. Pain doesn’t seem to cut it. Pain isn’t the word that can explain how he feels, because _it isn’t enough_. It’s not just pain, it’s everything. It’s everywhere. His heart, his head, his arms and legs and eyes and the rest of him. There is a sharp, crippling ache right in his stomach that’s travelling through every fiber of his being. He grabs the edges of the chair he’s sitting on, searching for any kind of support.

Soonyoung thinks he’s about to throw up.

Move away?

His breath turns shallow, and before he knows what’s happening, he’s hyperventilating. Wonwoo rushes towards him, dropping to his knees. He shivers as he tries to grab Soonyoung’s hands from where they’re gripping the sides of the chair, but Soonyoung involuntarily pushes him away, his chest rising and falling.

The whole world is falling.

Wonwoo’s eyes run over Soonyoung’s features, his lips trembling as he scours for the right thing to say, the appropriate apology, but Soonyoung’s expression is enough for him to stop, with pleading and doleful eyes, his head shaking- trying to desperately to deny what he’s been told.

 _No more Wonwoo_. No more late night watching movies, no more afternoons spent in his balcony, looking over the city with cups of warm cocoa. No more Wonwoo waking him up when he falls asleep on the couch, waiting for him to come home from a competition, dragging him toward the bedroom. No more ordering in greasy takeout, Wonwoo stuffing his face with chicken and Soonyoung trying not to laugh. No more failed attempts at cooking in Soonyoung’s kitchen. No more kissing Wonwoo soft, with their lips barely touching, before he gives in and presses their mouths together to feel every surface of his mouth with his tongue. No more falling asleep with his nose at the top of his head, breathing him in.

Soonyoung’s eyes squeeze shut, and the tears at the edge of his lashes fall, hitting his shirt and jeans. When he opens them, Wonwoo is still seated on his knees and sobbing silently, waiting with a clenched jaw and his teeth grinding. “I’m sorry-”

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry,” Soonyoung cuts him off, mumbling incoherently. He can’t feel his limbs when he stands up and starts pacing around, desperately trying to make sense of it all. When he stops, his knee bends and he kicks the chair he’s been sitting on, and it falls to the floor with a loud clash.

 

\--------------------------------

Soonyoung’s fingers quiver from how tight he clutches the beer bottle. The skies are dark. No sunrise, no sunset. The breeze doesn’t feel comforting on his skin this time, as he sits at the edge of the pier and blinks at the moonlit ocean under him. It stings and burns, the cold making him shiver- he doesn’t know how to make the crying stop, and he’s starting to feel a little lightheaded.

Every time he remembers, an agonizing pain in his head manifests and he takes another swig from his beer, a long and last one. He shakes the bottle to make sure it’s empty before throwing it next to him, and the glass shatters, the shards scatter around the ground and eventually stop, and Soonyoung stares at the broken pieces, a strange sense of empathy rippling over him.

“That’s dangerous, you know.” He hears a voice emerging from his left, and when he twists his head to see who’s there, Jeonghan is standing with his arms crossed against his chest. Soonyoung narrows his eyes at him before he shifts back to face the sea.

“How’d you know I’m here?” He asks, unintentionally hostile. Jeonghan huffs and steps closer until he can bend down to sit next to Soonyoung at the edge.

“Wonwoo called me. Said you kicked a chair and ran off.” Soonyoung gives a sardonic laugh and Jeonghan doesn’t make a sound. Instead, his eyes just bore into Soonyoung until his face slants down, eyes welling up with tears again.

Jeonghan doesn’t need to use words to make Soonyoung grit his teeth and break down sobbing. The tears won’t stop, so heavy his vision becomes blurred, and Jeonghan scoots closer, taking Soonyoung’s hands to hold tight, while he continues to bawl, his sobs muddled with indistinguishable sentences.

Jeonghan pivots to face Soonyoung and grabs his face with both hands, thumbing just beneath his lower lashes and wiping the tears. Soonyoung shudders. His hands are gentle on his cheeks, warming him up in contrast to the cold breeze from the open sea.

After a few deep breaths, Soonyoung pulls his nose and Jeonghan’s hands drop. He goes back to look at the sky and water, marvelled, as the light the moon reflects against the ocean.

“He can’t be a minor one. He can’t be. Not him,” Soonyoung whispers after a little while that they just sit and hold each other’s hands. Jeonghan’s tight clasp around his hands keep him from letting the tears get a hold of him again.  
  
  
  
_104 days ago_

Jeonghan insists he shouldn’t be alone, so Soonyoung doesn’t argue. These turn out to be two of the slowest weeks Soonyoung has ever had in his life; every minute feels like an eternity. He has never experienced such constant ache in his stomach, not even after having three slices of pizza and a milkshake to top it all off.

It’s Friday, which gives him the excuse not to leave Jeonghan’s bed the entire day. It’s a bad excuse, considering he’s been like this the whole two weeks he’s spent at Jeonghan’s apartment so far. _You’re grieving_ , Jeonghan tells him, _it’s natural you feel like you can’t do anything right now_. And he still wonders how it’s possible for him to feel like doing anything, ever again.

He’s never had his heart broken before.

It’s a little past four in the afternoon when he hears the door unlocking, sitting up on the queen-sized bed to see Jeonghan walking into the large studio apartment from the other side of the room, taking off his shoes.

There are only three small steps differentiating between Jeonghan’s ‘bedroom’ to his ‘living room’, and he climbs them with one long step. Jeonghan joins Soonyoung on the bed, lying behind him-- Soonyoung shifts, allowing Jeonghan’s arms to wrap around him from behind as they lie in silence for a minute until Jeonghan speaks.

“Are you hungry?” Jeonghan asks, settling his chin on Soonyoung’s shoulder. Soonyoung replies with a single shake of his head, the simple task of opening his mouth and saying real words too heavy and energy-consuming for him to tackle.

Jeonghan nods and asks a second question. “Where’s Mongmong?” Soonyoung grabs the end of the blanket covering Jeonghan’s gigantic bed to reveal a gray lump, nestling comfortably on the far right corner. The Scottish Fold lifts its head for a second to look around its surroundings, before it returns to its previous position, head buried against the mattress.

Soonyoung watches as the cat licks at its own limbs, raising a small paw to scratch next to his ear. A curious jealousy washes over him at the cat’s ability not to care less about anything or anyone, especially in his current state when every thought brings a brand new kind of agony.

Jeonghan shifts to his back and Soonyoung complies, lying beside him with his head over Jeonghan’s chest. There’s a stillness in the air that his heart indulges, and for a fleeting moment everything feels normal again. But as it is fleeting, he can’t hold onto it forever, no matter how badly he wishes he could. Jeonghan bends his head to peer at him, and Soonyoung tilts his head to meet his gaze. Jeonghan’s crooked fingers skim through the disheveled locks of Soonyoung’s hair, smoothing them back.

“Is there anything I can do?” Jeonghan asks, his final question, still hopeful that there might be something— even the smallest thing he’s capable of doing for Soonyoung. He doesn’t want to disappoint him, but Soonyoung doesn’t have a clue.

“Just stay here,” he replies, before closing his eyes. Jeonghan nods, his fingers twisting circles in Soonyoung’s hair, scratching the back of his head. At least there’s this- Jeonghan- someone he can lean into, someone who do anything for him to feel better- even if it’s nothing.

They lie in silence for a bit. Soonyoung wants to fall asleep, but his thoughts keep getting in the way. Not thinking about Wonwoo seems impossible, and he’s never been good with distractions. There’s one that comes to mind, though.

“Do you have plans tonight?”

Soonyoung is the one asking the questions now. Jeonghan raises his eyebrows; it’s been awhile since Soonyoung has asked him anything, or said anything, in general. His interest is piqued- Jeonghan sits up just a little and squints his eyes in thought.

“Oh, uh, I’m meeting Hansol after his class ends in about an hour or so,” Jeonghan answers apologetically, but Soonyoung shakes his head, keeps talking with his eyes shut.

“Does he like ice cream?”

Jeonghan smiles. “Yeah. We can go.”

 

 

\--------------------------------

Leaving Jeonghan’s apartment for the first time in a week (last time was just to refill his Lactaid prescription, which he forgot- again, because he doesn’t have Wonwoo to remind him- and it isn’t something he can just send Jeonghan to do for him) turns out to be a challenge. He doesn’t remember what it feels like to feel the sun on his skin without large windows obscuring its warmth, and even though it’s only May and he still needs a hoodie, summer is upon them- and for another moment, Soonyoung forgets his heart in pieces on the floor, broken shards of glass.

Jeonghan must have told Hansol about what happened with Wonwoo, because when they meet him at the crossing between the university and the way toward the pier, he walks over to them and greets Jeonghan with a simple kiss before approaching Soonyoung and wrapping an arm around his shoulder as they walk in the direction of the ice cream shop. Soonyoung can’t help a smile.

Jeonghan tags along beside them, arms crossed against his chest while he watches Soonyoung and Hansol walk together, Soonyoung’s arm around Hansol’s waist. They talk nonsense, because conversation with Soonyoung is like a minefield. One wrong move might make him explode.

Once at the door to the ice cream shop, Soonyoung is the first of them to push the door open and warmly greet the lady behind the vitrine. The familiar lights and smell of forbidden ice cream almost works as a tranquilizer. He’s been keeping himself cooped up in Jeonghan’s apartment for so long, trying desperately to recall what makes him happy, when it’s the simplest of things all along.

Now that Soonyoung is jubilated looking at the different flavors and of ice cream, only to ask for a cup with the same corn flavor he always asks for (the woman behind the vitrine already has her scoop centimeters away from the container), Jeonghan and Hansol stay behind him and talk, Hansol’s arms hooked around Jeonghan’s shoulder lazily.

“Hey, don’t forget to get Pistachio for me,” Jeonghan calls, and Soonyoung turns around with a grin. Nostalgia creeps in the air and makes it easier for Soonyoung to breathe.

“Oh, and I want vanilla.” Jeonghan cranes his neck back and raises his eyebrows at Hansol, then turns to look at Soonyoung, and the both of them burst into laughter, the inside joke flying over Hansol’s head and leaving him looking around, dumbfounded.

 

_88 days ago_

At a certain point, it becomes illogical for Soonyoung to keep sleeping at Jeonghan’s place. It’s been over a month now, and he’s still an adult, with a job and classes and exams, and his own home-- and even though Jeonghan is wary of him returning home and spending most his time alone, Soonyoung reassures him he’ll be okay.

Jeonghan still makes him swear to call if he needs him, no matter when or what’s wrong. Soonyoung knows well there isn’t a point in trying to argue, so he promises Jeonghan with a smile.

Walking back from class, he enters the coffee shop near his apartment and laughs when Mingyu barely greets him, but just bows and immediately turns to prepare his coffee order.

Mingyu hands him his coffee from over the counter with a sweet smile. Getting back to his old routine feels foreign, but he’s trying to pick up his old habits one by one, so it’ll be easier to remember his life from before.

Soonyoung bows his head at Mingyu and tugs his bag straps over his shoulder again, securing it on his back before turning to leave the coffee shop. He has another tedious essay to finish tonight and whatever instant coffee he has back home isn’t going to cut it. A fragment of a memory lurks at the very back of his mind, and he squeezes his eyes before it has the time to put itself back together.

Unfortunately, life doesn’t cooperate-- because when Soonyoung stops with his back facing the cafe to pull his phone out of his pocket and check the time, a familiar figure advances in his path, and he loses his grip on the paper cup in his hand.

Wonwoo stops when he sees Soonyoung and realizes he’s seen him too. The both of them stand, unmoving, paused in their current position, feet deadlocked onto the concrete. It feels like an hour passes until Wonwoo makes his first move towards Soonyoung, who has spilled his coffee all over the ground, his heart pounding a thousand beats per minute.

Once Wonwoo is close enough, Soonyoung begins shaking his head persistently, finally moving to walk backwards and away from him. “No, no no no-” he keeps muttering to himself under his breath, and when they’re only a few centimeters apart, Soonyoung lifts his hands to press against his ears. He doesn’t want to hear, he doesn’t want to know, he doesn’t want _anything_.

“No!”

Soonyoung yells loud enough to draw the attention of a few spectators. Wonwoo freezes.

“Don’t. I don’t want to, I don’t want to--” He tries to speak, but his brain can’t make the connection between words and his mouth. They had left so much unsaid between them, so many lines Soonyoung has practiced in his mind, alone in the bathroom, late at night in bed, gawking at a TV screen with nothing showing.

Wonwoo’s gaze doesn’t drop from his face for even a moment, and neither does Soonyoung’s. It’s a perpetual staring match. Soonyoung’s nails dig into his palm from how tight he’s clenching his fist. And just when he thinks he can gather his strength, walk away, recoil-- his heart reverts-- all the pain from that night. He cracks.

“You, you- you don’t get to speak first. You don’t get to tell me how sorry you are-” His voice breaks with every word, but he keeps going while he still can. “You let me fall for you. You let me fall for you knowing you might have to leave me and it isn’t _fair_ ,”

Wonwoo’s mouth opens for a brief moment, although he hasn’t the faintest idea what he’s going to say; it doesn’t matter, because Soonyoung persists.

“Because I can’t tell you not to go. I can’t tell you to stay. And I can’t tell you to go, either. I can’t tell you to leave. I can’t.”

When he looks down at the ground, his eyes are fuzzy with tears, his lips quivering. Bringing them back to look at Wonwoo, he can scarcely see through the fogginess of his tears, but he can tell Wonwoo is crying. His face shows nothing more than sorrow and remorse.

If only Soonyoung didn’t feel so angry, if only he didn’t feel so hurt, he would run straight into his arms, hold him tight and never let go, breathe him in until he feels like himself again.

“You’re gonna be proud of me, because you’ve taught me a lot of chess. And you pulled a Zugzwang on me. Remember that? A situation where every possible move will fuck you up. Where no matter what you do, you can’t win.”

Soonyoung takes a deep, heavy breath. “I have to go.”

As he walks away, one shaking step at a time, he can hear Wonwoo calling his name, again and again, each time with less hopeful Soonyoung would turn back around.  
  
  
  
_76 days ago_

An incessant knocking sound has Soonyoung whining, still half-asleep. After several attempts to fall back to sleep in hopes that the sound will stop if he tries his best to ignore it prove insufficient, he finally sits up in his bed and stretches. Soonyoung scratches the back of his head, stumbling off the bed and out of the bedroom, walking semi-conscious to his front door.

Opening the door, Soonyoung blinks a few time. Jeonghan stands in front of him, holding a large and beautifully organized bouquet of pink and white aster flowers. In his just-woken-up state, he’s slightly confused.

Then it hits him: It’s his birthday today.

“Happy birthday!” Jeonghan yells, making Soonyoung wince and cover his ears in laughter, walking backwards to let his friend into his apartment. Jeonghan grins at him and turns on the light in the corridor to shine his way to the kitchen, where he puts the bouquet down on the counter and opens every cabinet in search of a vase. It takes him a few minutes, but the pursuit proves successful when Jeonghan pulls out a light blue ceramic vase that’s seen better days, filling it with water and delicately placing the bouquet inside.

One of these days, Soonyoung hopes to understand what it is he’s done to earn Jeonghan as his best friend.

“I have a couple classes today, but once they’re done, Hansol and I are taking you out to eat- with a few surprises on the way,” Jeonghan announces, walking towards the sleepy Soonyoung and helping him locate the couch to sit down. He’s still too tired to form actual sentences, and all that comes out are mumbled thank-yous and incoherent proclamations of love.

Jeonghan fixes him a healthy breakfast that turns out to be tastier than expected after Soonyoung moans that _it’s his birthday_ and _he deserves to eat something that’s bad for him_ , but Jeonghan scolds him, saying he’ll have plenty of that tonight instead. When he leaves, Soonyoung grins at him from behind the door and watches as he walks down the steps, screaming a few profanities as he vanishes from view down the staircase.

 

 

\--------------------------------

Around five-thirty, Soonyoung starts getting ready. Jeonghan told him he needed to dress formal- what for he has no idea- but he rummages his closet for the suit he wore to their high school graduation (that by a stroke of luck still fits him). It’s a very simple black suit- his bedroom is in his chaos after he empties every one of his drawers seeking the tie that goes with it.

Looking in the mirror, he fixes the hem of his shirt into his trousers and lifts his collar to wedge the tie in between, straightening it. Pulling at the knot, the image of Wonwoo manifests before his eyes: standing with his back to him while Soonyoung sits on the bed with his arms around his knees, beaming at him from his reflection in the mirror as he does his tie before he leaves for a convention. Soonyoung is enraptured, following Wonwoo’s hands as they skillfully cross the wide end over the narrow.

The quiet magic he feels when Wonwoo’s eyes are on him as he expertly creates a perfect knot has Soonyoung’s stomach twisting. There’s an ephemeral thought of love in Soonyoung’s mind before Wonwoo turns around to face him, a sweet un-telling smirk at the corner of his mouth. Soonyoung, in a reflex, extends his neck, and Wonwoo laughs as he leans in to press their mouths together, kissing him softly.

Soonyoung forces the memory to a stop before it becomes too palpable.

He shoves his keys and wallet into his pocket when he receives a text from Jeonghan saying he and Hansol are waiting at his building’s front. The exaggerated amount of birthday-themed emoticons has him laughing all the way down the stairs, to where both Jeonghan and Hansol stand in their own formal-wear, elegant black suits. Hansol whistles in approval when Soonyoung appears before them. “Spin!” Hansol demands, and Soonyoung twirls and lands right on his feet with a simper plastered across his features.

“Good evening, birthday-boy,” Jeonghan greets cheerfully and bows before him. Soonyoung responds with a bow of his own, making Hansol duck his head as he giggles.

“Where are we going?” Soonyoung asks as they walk down the street, the three of them standing out like stars in a pitch-black sky.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Jeonghan teases, revealing nothing.

They stop at the piazza in front of the theater, gleaming lights around them- the sky is a mellow hue of pink with the right amount of clouds, making the city look transcendental. Soonyoung raises questioning eyebrows at Jeonghan.

Reaching for his inner pocket, Jeonghan takes out three tickets, and hands one of them to Soonyoung. Hesitant, Soonyoung clutches the ticket between his fingers.

_Swan Lake. 18:30. 20:55._

His heart skips a beat when the penny finally drops. Soonyoung brings a shivering hand to cover his mouth, his shock unparalleled; words evade him. Trying his very best not to burst in tears, he stumbles towards Jeonghan to wrap his arms around his torso and squeeze, nails digging into the back of his jacket suit.

Jeonghan hugs back, tenderly cradling Soonyoung’s head with both his hands as a nervous, airy laugh emits from his lungs. They untangle after a few seconds, and Jeonghan ruffles Soonyoung’s hair just to smooth it back.

“Come on. Let’s go,” Jeonghan whispers, and Soonyoung nods, approaching the theater and letting Jeonghan and Hansol stroll behind him, his ticket sheltered in his hand.

Hansol offers his arm to Jeonghan, who pulls at his nose to stop his tears before wrapping his arm around Hansol’s, and they step in the direction of the theater, Hansol tilting his head to press a lingering kiss to the side of Jeonghan’s head.

They enter the lobby. The red floor beneath their feet is luminous, flowing into a wide staircase of the same sharp color. Soonyoung is enchanted. The ceiling is covered with glowing orbs of unfiltered white light, already gorgeous on their own, but their radiant effect is amplified by the the floor and stairs’ splashes of red. Soonyoung turns in awe to find his friends standing a feet from him, just as fascinated and captivated as he is.

After they locate their seats and situate themselves, there are only a few moments before the lights fade and the theater goes dark. With the first musical note, light emanates from the stage, and Soonyoung loses his first breath of the evening.

As the performance continues, Soonyoung watches the ballerinas carefully, noting every move and gesture; the gracefulness of their motion, comely expressions as their feet glide over the stage, one stunning whirl after another.

He takes his time to focus on the ancient, gorgeous choreography as well as the sheer beauty of the dancers, the spellbinding fashion in which they enthrall the audience. It sparks the passion he’s always had in him for dancing, reminding him why he loves what he does so deeply; there could never be something as beautiful to him, something as bewitching as emotions displayed through body movement, the vulnerability you mustn’t be afraid of.

Just as the performance comes to an end, his heart is heavy but sated, Jeonghan’s hand finds his and they intertwine their fingers. The tight grasp has Soonyoung resurfacing from the reverie he was lost in throughout the show. He squeezes the hand entwined with his, feeling like _thank you_ wouldn’t be enough. Nothing will ever be enough; he doesn’t know how he’ll ever be able to express his gratitude to Jeonghan for gifting this experience to him.

Coming back to their senses, the trio stumble out of the theater in a trance-like state. Soonyoung has an arm around Jeonghan’s waist, Hansol on his other side with an arm around Soonyoung’s shoulders. Laughing, they try not to step on each other’s feet as they walk carelessly around the piazza.

Hansol is the first to say what they’re all thinking about.

“How about meat?”

They find the nearest restaurant and order enough food to feed thirteen people. The waitress who takes their order is a short, peach-haired girl in her early twenties. Her hair is in a high ponytail, bangs covering her forehead with two longer strands at each side of her face- Soonyoung falls in love with her on sight. She says with the amount of meat portions they’re ordering they can get a deal on any alcoholic drinks they’d like, and Soonyoung says he’ll have _whatever she thinks it best_. With a giggle, she recommends a 2012 Gewürztraminer, and Soonyoung agrees immediately.

The waitress skips away to send their order to the kitchen. Soonyoung is worried it might cost too much, but Jeonghan says he’ll take care of the bill (Soonyoung makes a mental note to ask him where’s the mysterious money is coming from). The restaurant is exuberant, crowded with people of all ages. Some tables occupied by couples, some families and large groups of friends. Colorful art and illustrations cover the walls, pictures of satisfied customers with the staff hanged here and there- photos range from years ago to the day, making the place seem homey, packed with memories.

The buzzing of spirited conversation and laughter around Soonyoung is euphoric. He revels in the sentiment, feeling alive and present, content to spend his birthday with good people, have good food and be immersed in a lively environment.

Jeonghan picks up a piece of cooked meat and offers it to Hansol, who leans in with his whole body to capture it with his mouth, but at the very last second Jeonghan tugs his chopsticks away to eat it. Hansol leans back in his seat, mouth agape ridiculously at the theft. Soonyoung grabs his chest where it aches from laughing so violently at Hansol’s expression, so hard that he stops making any sound at all,and apparently his silent cackle is contagious because it’s only a moment later that all three of them are gasping for breath.

After finishing about half of what they ordered and asking their waitress if they can have the rest in a takeaway bag, they get the check and Jeonghan swats Soonyoung’s hands away when he tries peeking at the total sum. Placing his card on the small tray, he hands it back to the waitress.

She returns after a minute with their receipt. When Jeonghan picks up the tray to put his card back in his wallet, there’s a piece of torn paper underneath it. With a smug smile, Jeonghan hands the paper to Soonyoung.

On the paper, scribbled in cute handwriting, is a phone number and name- Eunwoo. When Soonyoung finally drags his eyes away from it to look at the waitress across the room where she stands near the register, she meets his eyes for a brief moment and looks away shyly.

The three of them say their goodbyes and leave the restaurant with a heavy bag of leftovers, drunk and full and happy. Jeonghan and Hansol walk with their arms tangled, Jeonghan’s head settled on Hansol’s shoulder. Soonyoung trails behind them, stumbling every few steps. In his hand, the crumpled piece of paper with the waitress’ number on it. He stares at it forever, passing it between his fingers.

Eventually, he clenches his fist, wrinkling the paper until it turns into a ball, and drops it.

Unlocking the door, he lets his friend enter his apartment first. They walk past the door and toward the living room immediately, plunging on the couch, the both of them complaining they ate far too much.

Soonyoung is about to walk inside and lock the door when he notices something on his left on the floor. It’s encased in dark blue glitter wrapping paper. He picks it up curiously and steps inside, bending his leg to close the door behind him with his foot, clumsily locking the door while inspecting the box.

“Think someone left me a gift,” he slurs as he joins his friends in the living room, grabbing a chair from the dining table so he can sit down (Jeonghan and Hansol claimed the whole couch).

“Open it,” Hansol replies, sitting up so he can have a proper view of Soonyoung with the box in his lap. Soonyoung nods, trying his best to discover what’s inside while making the littlest possible damage to the wrapping. Once unwrapped, he fishes out his keys to cut open the box.

Inside lies what seems to be a sort of bedside lamp, white with bright blue edges and buttons. He examines it a little further, noticing the lid has an ocean wave pattern on it in a darker shade of blue. He finds an instructions sheet on the corner of the box.

“It’s an ocean waves light projector,” Soonyoung whispers. “It makes the room look like it’s underwater.”

“That’s cool as fuck,” Hansol articulates, the three of them beginning to sober up. Soonyoung is still bewildered as he stares at the projector, before he lifts his head in Jeonghan’s direction, to where he’s lying on the couch with his head in Hansol’s lap.

“Did you get this for me?” Soonyoung asks. Jeonghan shakes his head, running fingers through his hair sheepishly.

“Not me. I took you to the ballet and bought you a five course meal,” he says, which only preserves Soonyoung’s confusion. He reaches to the cardboard box on the floor and flips it to see if he’s missed anything, and a card falls out and lands on the wooden floor.

Gripping it between his fingers, Soonyoung takes the card and unfolds it at the crease.

 _Happy birthday. It’s now twenty-two years you’ve barely handled._  
_I leave on the day we met, early in the morning._  
_I know you said you don’t want to hear,_  
_but in case you do before I have to go_  
_I’m still here._

_Love, still, and always_

_Wonwoo_

One card, and Soonyoung’s birthday celebrations come to an end.

  
  
  
_45 (44) days ago_

With a gasping breath, Soonyoung wakes up. Blinking at his dark bedroom, the only source of light filters from the open window, a flickering streetlight to help him remember where he is. He hasn’t had a night terror since he was sixteen, but the horror is just as familiar as he wipes his sweaty forehead and sits up against his headboard. Luckily to him, he never remembers his dreams once awake.

It’s been a little over a month since his birthday, and the card Wonwoo wrote to him remains on his nightstand. It stands there, untouched, almost threatening in its possible repercussions.

This summer is unlike its predecessor. While the last floated like a daydream, bringing forth a wonderful ending and a hopeful beginning of the best autumn of his life, this one is frustrating. Soonyoung never thought a season could scorn him, but he’s been proven wrong.

Soonyoung extends his arm to grab his phone and check the time. Half an hour to midnight. He’d only been asleep for three hours, but going back to sleep feels futile, even though he has an early day tomorrow at the community center with the kids. It won’t be the first time he’ll go to work sleepless this month.

His throat feels dry when he swallows, so he goes to the kitchen and comes back to his bedroom with a glass of water. Walking in and nearing his bed, his foot hits something on the floor. He groans- this stupid darkness- and puts the glass down on his nightstand (as far away as possible from the card, open and displayed for no one). He sits on the bed and lifts whatever it is he bumped into.

It’s the box containing the projector Wonwoo had left for him on his birthday. Of course, he thinks sarcastically, this is _exactly_ what he needs to be reminded of right now. He hasn’t tried to use it ever since that night, and he’s done a good job at forgetting this was his birthday gift and not the card he’s absentmindedly made the bigger deal of the two.

He looks at the box once more. Might as well- there’s no chance he’s going back to sleep anytime soon, anyway, not after one of his night terrors.

It takes longer than expected for Soonyoung to understand what cable goes where and which side of the output is the correct one (he’s never been that great with technology), but after ten or so minutes he’s pretty sure he has it configured right.

Pressing it on, Soonyoung’s previously dark room turns into an underwater cave, luminescent admiral blue waves projected onto his ceiling. Astonished, he sits on his bed and wraps both arms around his knees, gazing wide-eyed at the ocean now engulfing his once small bedroom. The waves move in a circular motion above him, far away yet seeming so tangible, almost as if he were to stand on his bed and touch his ceiling his hand would return wet.

But what’s wet, Soonyoung doesn’t notice, are his cheeks- his tears trail over them and down his neck, too oblivious to notice when he’s enveloped in the peacefulness the projector exudes, surrounded by the waves he’s always adored, the ocean he’s always treasured.

Soonyoung breaks down, sobbing. Real sobbing- gross sobbing. For months now he’s been burying every thought he’s had about missing Wonwoo so much that his heart might give in. And this gift- this perfect, thoughtful gift- makes every piece of him that’s longing for Wonwoo remerge from the deepest nooks and crannies in his heart.

His tears are halted by the sound of a notification from his phone. Soonyoung blindly reaches for it before wiping his eyes so he can see the screen. There’s a reminder in purple with an accompanied birthday cake emoji.

_wonwoo’s birthday!_

The time shows midnight, the 17th of July. The calendar app Jeonghan had pre-installed in his phone months ago, when none of this pain seemed conceivable, has come back to haunt him. Soonyoung collapses on his bed with his phone tightly in his hand, almost hallucinating the scent of Wonwoo’s head, that doesn’t smell like shampoo, or anything in particular, but just of Wonwoo.

He cries himself to sleep.  
  
  
  
_20 days ago_

“I had a night terror about three weeks ago,” Soonyoung tells Jeonghan over lunch. Neither of them have had a free day at the same time in forever- Soonyoung has been teaching every day for the past two months, not to mention outdoor activities and field trips he has to organize, and Jeonghan has started a full-time job at a local sound production studio after graduating- with honors (and thus solving the mystery of how he managed to afford the festivities on Soonyoung’s birthday). When they found out a week ago that they were both free the coming Friday, without a single plan, they made sure to schedule a catching-up meal.

Jeonghan chews his bite of tomato-sauce-drowned spaghetti and swallows, placing his fork down. “I thought those stopped in high school.” Jeonghan furrows his eyebrows and Soonyoung shrugs.

“Stress-induced night terrors. Who knows what it is this time around. I already came out in high school, don’t think coming out again is going to be the solution,” he jokes, stuffing a gnocchi into his mouth. Jeonghan rolls his eyes.

“You know why they’re back,” Jeonghan reprimands. The shift in his tone makes Soonyoung lift his eyes from his gnocchi plate and direct them at Jeonghan. His expression is a mixture of worried and aggravated and Soonyoung isn’t sure how to avoid having this discussion anymore. He’s out of excuses and justifications as to why it shouldn’t.

“You need to talk about it. If not with him, then at least with me. You’re not doing yourself any favors keeping all that turmoil to yourself. You’re not made like that, Soonyoung, you’ve never been.”

Jeonghan’s right. Everything he says is true. He’s never been wrong, not once. And yet Soonyoung feels a lump forming in his throat when he tries to say anything about the pain he’s been keeping in for the past few months. The heartbreak and the numbness, the anger and frustration. Just talking about it scares him because if he talks about it as if it’s real, it’s actually happening, then sooner or later Wonwoo won’t be here anymore. It isn’t a truth Soonyoung wants to acknowledge.

His biggest problem is that he doesn’t know what to do.

“What do I do? What am I supposed to do?” he asks Jeonghan after a long silence between them. Jeonghan rests his cheek over his palm and looks at Soonyoung with the same uncertainty. If there’s at least one thing Soonyoung is right about, it’s that it isn’t fair. Because when you consider the bigger picture, there really isn’t anything he can do.

“I don’t know. You tell me. Do you still love him?”

The question, for Soonyoung, is absurd. He can’t begin to imagine not loving Wonwoo for a second. He doesn’t know his heart anymore without Wonwoo holding the largest space inside it. He loves Wonwoo more than anyone in the world, more than anything. More than dance, more than Jeonghan, more than the ocean, more than corn-flavored ice cream.

He loves Wonwoo so much, he’d fall in love with him all over again, if he could. Even if it means he has to endure all the suffering that comes along with it, all the agonizing pain of losing him. “Yeah,” Soonyoung murmurs, rubbing the skin between his collarbone and neck.  
  
  
  
_Today_

The very first time Soonyoung read the card Wonwoo had left him on his birthday, he immediately knew what was meant by _I leave on the day we met_.

August 31st of last year, with the club lights flashing to the beat of the deafening music, he lays eyes on Wonwoo for the first time in his life. What he only thinks will be a one-night-stand to remember the guy who _only dances if he plans to take someone’s eye out_ , but ends up becoming someone a bit more complicated than that.

Soonyoung has had three months to visit Wonwoo before the day he will leave. He’s pondered over going to see him countless times over the course of those months. Every time he gets closer and closer to the drawer, the one he abandoned Wonwoo’s apartment key in (which he never asked for him to return), he’s met with too much fear, too much ache, too much loss to process.

But the same day the following year, after the first day of rehearsals for the end of summer show with the kids, Soonyoung comes back to his dark apartment to open that drawer and leave in a hurry.

Unlocking the door to Wonwoo’s apartment, he finds it free of all the old furniture that had been there before. No dining table, no couch, no chairs; nothing but the same light-blue-painted cabinets in the kitchen and the polished mahogany counter.

It’s weird to see somewhere you’ve spent so much of your time in as an open, unclaimed space. The memories and experiences Soonyoung formed in this place remain, but their remnants are gone.

Quietly escaping the living room, Soonyoung walks down the corridor toward the bedroom. He takes an unstable breath before pushing the doorknob and entering the room; his heart is racing, anxious and hesitant, but his feet are quick, making their way to the bed and sliding under the covers. He nestles next to a familiar figure, who Soonyoung thinks is asleep, but moves to welcome Soonyoung into his arms once the weight on the bed shifts.

“I knew you’d come,” Wonwoo whispers against the crook of Soonyoung’s neck once they find a comfortable position- with Soonyoung’s nose buried at the top of Wonwoo’s head, breathing him in. The scent, in its comforting and calming nature, makes Soonyoung’s eyes water instantly. And yet, he laughs, gripping the back of Wonwoo’s shirt so tight he just might tear the fabric.

“Did you?” he asks. Wonwoo nods.

They stay like that for a long time. At least enough for them to stop crying. Holding each other, brushing fingers over their backs, replacing all the air in their lungs with each other’s scent.

Soonyoung pulls back to look at Wonwoo’s face. The room isn’t dark at all, in fact, all the windows are open, sunset light coming from outside. He can see Wonwoo’s face clearly as he traces the lines of his features delicately, wiping the remaining dampness in his eyes. Soonyoung has felt a lot of things for the past months, but he never once felt the need to categorize one of his emotions as _homesick_. But when he runs his fingers over Wonwoo’s face for the first time in an eternity, after doing it every night for an even longer time, if possible, he can’t find a different way to describe it.

“I’m sorry. I should have come sooner. I just couldn’t… bear spending more than a night with you. Because- because then I wouldn’t have let you go,” he whispers, his voice cracking between words when his throat starts clogging up again with tears returning.

Wonwoo shakes his head, lifting both his hands to hold Soonyoung’s cheeks. He closes his eyes when Wonwoo leans forward and presses a kiss to each of Soonyoung’s eyelids, and somehow the tears stop as Soonyoung lets out another quiet laugh.

Ever since his conversation with Jeonghan that day, a lot of Soonyoung’s pent up anger began drifting away. He would stay up at night thinking about Wonwoo and him, how close yet so far away they’ve been at the very end before everything went south. And he started understanding and accepting what Wonwoo has done for him; he tried his best to make their time together longer than it would have been, if Soonyoung had known from the very start that this day would come; and even the bad days, Soonyoung wouldn’t trade for the world. Every moment he got to spend loving Wonwoo, knowing Wonwoo loves him back, was the most important thing.

And now, he knows he can’t let Wonwoo go without him knowing he loves him.

“I’m sorry-” Wonwoo starts to murmur, but Soonyoung stops him by pressing their mouths together. It takes a few seconds for Wonwoo to reciprocate, but slowly his arms hook around Soonyoung’s torso tightly as they kiss. Soonyoung takes his time, keeping the kiss deep but lazy, leisurely exploring every corner of Wonwoo’s mouth with his tongue until both of their breaths are staggered, and only then he dares to break apart.

“I know,” he reassures him. Wonwoo’s exhausted eyes stare at him through tears. “I love you.”

The moment the words float out of his mouth and into the hot air between their faces, Soonyoung knows he doesn’t regret saying them. And the way Wonwoo looks at him, his vision becoming more and more blurred with tears, Soonyoung doesn’t have a doubt in him that Wonwoo loves him too.

They fall back into each other’s arms, gripping as tight as they can. Soonyoung doesn’t linger, and buries his head at the top of Wonwoo’s head to breathe him in again, take him in as much as he can. Today might be the last day he breathes in his scent, and even though, eventually, he’ll have to- Soonyoung can’t bring himself to exhale.

 

 

 

236 days ago

Soonyoung drags the snoring heater towards the couch where Wonwoo is lounging, fitting it between the couch and the coffee table, making sure its heat flows in exactly the right direction before flopping next to Wonwoo. He lies down, adjusting his head to rest comfortably on Wonwoo’s lap and clutching his phone from the table beside him. The Candy Crush app is still open, on pause, and now that he’s cozy and warm, he resumes the game. Wonwoo turns another page in his book, ignoring Soonyoung’s immense efforts to make sure they stay warm.

“Wonwoo,” he says, sticking his phone in his face, blocking his view of the book. “Help me pass this level.” Soonyoung whines, earning nothing more than a sigh before Wonwoo puts his book down on Soonyoung’s stomach and grabs the phone out of his hands.

“I keep telling you, you’re playing this game all wrong,” Wonwoo starts scolding, but Soonyoung rolls his eyes cranes his neck so he can see the screen from his position.

“See, you gotta do this here first…”

**Author's Note:**

> @kiss__0116 on twitter!!!!


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